


Play

by RottenMint



Series: Paternal Instincts [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, antok/kolivan is only mentioned, brief angst, dads of marmora, mild discussion of human and alien biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 12:16:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11275161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RottenMint/pseuds/RottenMint
Summary: Training with Antok reveals something Keith didn't know he needed, as well as someone who can provide it for him.





	Play

**Author's Note:**

> Fic number three!! I don't think I've ever written this many stories consecutively before. 
> 
> As always, sorry for any mistakes, and constructive criticism is always appreciated!

Keith is frustrated. That much is obvious to Antok.

They've been going through formations with Keith’s blade for hours, Antok teaching him different strategies and forms.

“The way you end up using your blade will reflect who you are. It can be used defensively or offensively, exclusively, though many members choose to learn both styles.” Antok had pulled his sword and taken a swing at Keith, who lifted his blade- still in its knife form- and blocked him effortlessly. “Most Blades, however, find a way to incorporate both styles as well as their own strategies. It makes fighting us difficult, as no two Blade members fight the same.”

Keith formed his sword, and Antok took him through the basic motions. Once satisfied, Antok challenged him to a duel. Keith threw away almost everything Antok taught him, instead focusing on landing as many hits as he could.

“Enough,” Antok barked, parrying another of Keith’s strikes, “you are letting your anger guide your movements. It is sloppy and careless. Any opponent will be able to take you down should you continue to fight this way.”

He walked Keith through the motions again, and they repeated the duel. The results were nearly the same. Antok sent Keith through the formations once more, lecturing him on the importance of focus and control during battle.

Slowly, Keith began to let his anger slide, allowing himself to follow the formations he’d been taught. While his anger subsided and his movements gained more constraint, he seemed to grow more agitated. The scent of Keith’s anxiety sat heavy in the air, making Antok wrinkle his nose.

Antok had never been good with words. With Kolivan, he hadn't needed to put his thoughts and feelings into words, as Kolivan knew him well enough to understand his body language and silence. There was a reason Kolivan lead the Blade of Marmora.

“Keith.” Keith ignored Antok, taking another swipe at an imaginary foe with his sword.

“Keith,” his voice hardened, “that's enough for today. We’ll resume tomorrow.” Keith stopped abruptly, glaring at Antok from underneath his bangs. Sweat ran down his forehead, his chest heaving with each breath as he returned his sword to its knife form and slid it back into its sheath.

Keith straightened, body stiff, and headed for the door. Antok knew he couldn't let him leave.

Before Keith could move past him, Antok removed his face mask. Keith paused mid-stride, and Antok took the chance to charge. Before he could react, Keith found himself thrown over Antok’s shoulder.

“Wh- Antok! Hey! Put me down!” Keith demanded, thrashing as he tried to dislodge himself from the tight grip of Antok’s arm around his waist. “This is- this is-” Keith trailed of as Antok began to spin. His mind reeled. Was this a punishment? A surprise form of fighting? Keith scrambled for answers.

Before he could come up with anything, laughter began to spill from his lips. Against his stomach, Keith could feel Antok’s shoulder shaking, and he gasped when he realized Antok was laughing as well. After a few more vicious spins, Antok let go of him. Keith flew through the air, still laughing as he hit the ground, as got to his feet.

When Antok crouched, arms outspread, playful growl bubbling from his throat, and tail swishing, Keith seemed confused.

A split second passed, the confusion replaced with a shaky grin. Keith launched himself at Antok, who moved to the side at the last second, sending Keith tumbling. Keith huffed as he hit the floor of the training room, breathless laughter echoing around them. Keith sprung to his feet, whirling around to face Antok again.

This type of fighting, there's no use for it. Any of these movements would allow Keith to be easily pinned by an enemy. He can’t help but wonder why Antok would _initiate play fighting_ , of all things.

Keith races towards Antok, smile splitting his face.

It’s the most fun he’s had in years.

:::

The sounds of panting fill the room. Keith lays on ground, exhausted and giddy all at once. The spike of adrenaline from their fight is wearing off, leaving him tired and relaxed. The feeling from the play fighting, though, lingers in the back of his mind. He feels satisfied, like he found something that he didn't know he’d been missing in the first place.

He feels whole.

“I haven't-” Keith begins, turning his head to look at Antok, who sits a few metres away. “I haven't done anything like that in ages. Not since my dad…” He trails off, still-present grin slipping off his face for a moment.

“Fighting, whether serious or for play, is an essential part of a kit’s growth. It is also an important form of bonding between all Galra.” Keith nods, barely registering the use of the word ‘kit’. 

“I used to get in trouble,” Keith slurs, “for fighting with other kids. I just wanted to play.” His voice sounds choked, “I didn't have anyone to do this with until I met Shiro. Then he was captured, and we found Voltron, so there hasn’t been any time.” He shuts his eyes.

When he opens them again, he startles. Antok is standing above him, eyes fond.

“I’d be more than willing to do this with you anytime, Keith.”

:::

Antok cleans his blade, half-listening to the conversation being held around him. Ulaz, Thace, and Kolivan entered a heated discussion about Keith’s age once they arrived in the common room. Ulaz is arguing his knowledge of human biology, and how they have no discernible way to tell if Keith’s parents were Galra- the boy himself doesn't know- or if he is the grandchild or even great-grandchild of a Galra.

“We cannot make any estimations of Keith’s age in Galran years, or how that may affect him and his human biology without knowing how much of him is actually Galra.” Ulaz murmurs.

“True, but we can already see how it does, in some ways,” Thace replies, “like his reaction in the training room.”

“You’re correct. However, we also know that Keith did not grow up treated as a Galra. His kit reflex may purely be from his lack of paternal example and Galran instinct.” Kolivan adds. The three go silent, allowing them all to pick up the quiet tap of nearing footsteps.

Keith appears in the doorway. He looks at Antok, ignoring the others in the room.

“Hey, Antok. Could we, um. Training room?” Keith asks, shy.

Antok nods, rising from his seat and stalking towards Keith. He places a hand on Keith’s shoulder, guiding him away from the common room and his baffled comrades. He notices the red tinge in Keith's face. _Blushing_ , Antok remembers.

He’s glad for his face mask. After all, his own smile would probably embarrass Keith further. The last thing he wants to do is make Keith feel uncomfortable, especially after the day before, when it seemed they’d finally made some kind of breakthrough.

Antok scans the hallway, finding it empty, and gently shoves Keith before sprinting away. It takes a second for Keith to catch on, but soon enough, Antok can hear another pair of running feet accompanying his own.

**Author's Note:**

> So, just go with it when I say that Galra have a better sense of smell than humans do. This fic is based off this head canon by allawander on tumblr, so please check them out!  
> https://allawander.tumblr.com/post/160650826883/have-you-ever-considered-the-other-ways-the-dads


End file.
